


shut up and listen when I tell you I love you

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Eren Yeager, Angry Jean Kirstein, Angst, Bickering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Eren is bad at feelings, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Idiots in Love, Jean is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Sad Eren Yeager, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Jean returns from a summer camping trip to find that Eren’s mother has died in a drunk driving accident.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 16
Kudos: 161





	shut up and listen when I tell you I love you

**Author's Note:**

> translated into Russian by TrailSh!!!!
> 
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/10420732  
> \----------------------------

“Jean?”

“Hey, Armin.”

“You _are_ back!” The relief in Armin’s voice is palpable.

Jean’s heart sinks. Armin’s voice only ever takes on that particular quality for one reason.

“Yeah, I got home about an hour ago. My dad doesn’t even know I’m here yet.”

“Connie thought that was you at the station. Welcome back, dude.” But it’s rushed, and Armin doesn’t spend any more time beating around the bush. “Would you help us look for him?”

Jean sighs.

‘Yeah, Armin, it’s nice to hear from you, too. How was your summer? Wanna hang out, catch up, shoot the shit?”

“Jean, you know I always enjoy your company. But we’ve got a little emergency here. Eren’s disappeared, and we don’t know where he went.”

“Isn’t it always an emergency, with Eren? Until it’s not? I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Well, um, maybe. But could you help us look? You always know where to find him.”

Jean knows it’s a lost cause, and that the sooner he acquiesces, the sooner he can finally sleep. In an actual bed. For the first time all summer. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Where have you looked?”

“We’ve checked everywhere in town.”

“Okay. I’ll go north.

This is bullshit misdirection. Jean knows immediately where Eren is, and it’s not north. It’s three towns west. The place he always disappears to when he wants to escape. Apparently, Armin and Mikasa haven’t found out about it yet.

He leaves his dad a quick note, on the off chance that he wakes up and sees the car gone, and heads out immediately.

He’s singing along to the radio, feeling both weird to be back in civilization, and like he never left. He’s glad he at least had a chance to take a piping hot shower and get his laundry started before Armin called. He was pretty rank after 10 weeks in the mountains.

He does his best to avoid thinking about how maddening the situation is. He managed to escape for the entire summer by fleeing to the wilderness, and the minute he steps back into town, he’s forced to go hunting for the one person he hoped to avoid. 

“Jean, honey, over here,” Petra calls out (also with relief) as soon as he walks in. Jean can’t help thinking that people are always happiest to see him when he’s cleaning up Eren’s messes. She points to a table tucked away in the corner.

Eren is crumpled into a heap, his long hair trailing in his beer.

Even like that, snoring away in a drunken stupor, drooling onto the table, a bruise blooming across his cheek, he looks like a fucking angel.

“What happened?” asks Jean when he gets close enough that he doesn’t have to yell. The bar is hopping tonight.

“I dunno,” says Petra, shrugging her shoulders. “Came in angry as hell, spouting garbage. Got into a fight before Levi put a stop to it. Then drank himself into a stupor.”

“I’ll take him off your hands.”

“You’re a love,” she says, with real gratitude. She needs the table, and she doesn’t want the headache of a passed-out Eren. Who does, really?

“Can his car stay overnight?”

“No problem, sweetie. It’s in our lot, it’ll be fine.”

“I’ll let him know,” says Jean.

Jean lifts Eren up. It’s not so easy, Eren being the awkward dead weight that he is. Jean curses and manages to heave him across one shoulder. Not the best grip, but it will have to do.

Even though Jean is tired and pissed off, he buckles Eren gently into the front seat, and releases the seat back so Eren can lie back, hopefully more comfortably.

He settles himself into the driver’s seat and calls Armin.

“Got him.”

“Knew we could count on you, Jean! You’ve got an unbelievable knack for this. Were you a homing pigeon in your last life?” Armin doesn’t wait for an answer. “Meet you behind the grocery store?”

“Be there in 30,” says Jean. He puts the phone away and leans back. He looks over at the drunken angel in the seat next to him and absently drops a hand onto Eren’s head. 

“You’re such an idiot,” he murmurs, smoothing Eren’s hair away from his face. If Eren's an idiot, what does that make Jean? The asshole who's been in love with the idiot for years and doesn’t have the guts to tell him?

By the time he gets to the grocery store, he’s exhausted and wondering why he signed up for this crap job. The road seems to be drifting all over the place in the darkness.

“Thank you, Jean,” says Armin fervently. “Where was he?”

“Around,” says Jean vaguely. He’s not sure why he feels compelled to keep Eren’s secrets for him, but he does. “Remind him to pick up his car in the morning.”

Armin doesn’t press for information about the location. “Thanks again. Don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“You would have been fine. And you can leave me out of it next time. I don’t want anyone to associate this,” he points to Eren with distaste, “with me. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Sure thing,” says Armin, obviously not paying attention as he examines Eren for hidden injuries.

Jean pauses. “What’s up with him anyway? He doesn’t usually drink like that.” 

There is a silence. Armin's paying attention now. He lets go of Eren and stands up.

“I wondered if you’d heard yet.”

A cold finger trails up Jean’s spine.

“Heard what?” he asks, keeping his voice even.

More silence.

“Heard what?” he repeats icily. He’s too tired for coy bullshit.

“His mom died.”

“What?” Whatever Jean was expecting, it wasn’t this. “Mrs. Jaeger _died?”_

“Yeah. A drunk driver. At the beginning of the summer.”

“No way!” Jean can’t believe it, but Armin clearly isn’t joking.

“Yeah. Eren has kind of lost his shit, to be honest. He’s a mess.”

“Fuck!”

Armin sighs. “Yeah.”

There’s only one more week until they all head out for their senior year of college. Jean puts off going to Eren’s house as long as he can. But when there’s only one day left, and he hasn’t run into Eren in passing, he goes. No matter what friction lies between them, it doesn’t feel right to leave without expressing sympathy for his loss.

The house looks neglected – creepy, even. The lawn is overgrown, and vines are starting to curl around the fence. It’s as though it’s turned into a haunted house over the summer. Jean shivers.

He waits a long time on the stairs after ringing the bell. He’s about to give up when Eren opens the door. His hair is stringy, his eyes are bloodshot, he’s wearing crummy pajamas with holes in them and scuffed slippers, and he’s as gorgeous as ever.

Jean’s heart skips a beat, so he puts on his grimmest expression as he pushes his way past a dazed Eren and into the house. Inside, the air smells stale.

“I’m sorry,” Jean says, his voice too loud in the dim light. “About your mom.”

This shakes Eren out of his daze. His eyes flash with anger.

“Are you, Kirstein? What gives you the right to be sorry? What do you care anyway?”

"Of course I care.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do, asshole!”

“That’s right. Come waltzing into the house of mourning and call the grieving family member an asshole. Typical shitty Jean Kirstein behavior.”

Jean takes a deep breath. He honestly doesn’t know why he bothered. Eren is such a pain! This is why he’s never told him. This, and his own cowardice, of course. Well, he’ll try one more time to do the right thing, say the things he thought of on the way over in the car, and then he’s out of there.

“Your mom was – “

“Shut the hell up, Kirstein.”

“Will you let me finish my goddamned sentence?” Jean almost yells. His hands are shaking with the effort of holding back. But he is not going to punch Eren. He is not going to get into a fight with him. No matter how infuriating Eren is, Jean is going to stay calm. He will not fight. He will not. All he's going to do is talk.

“Your mom – “

It’s almost a relief when Eren throws the first punch, neatly ending the charade of civility. Then it's back to their usual mode of communication: brawling.

Apparently, Eren’s dad isn’t home, because no one stops them, and nothing happens when the table lamp crashes to the floor and shatters into a million pieces.

Nothing, except that Jean is brought back to his senses. Enough to stand up, panting, and take a good look around him. A good look at Eren, who is now curled in on himself, his face streaked with tears. 

_Shit._

What the hell is he doing, fighting with Eren? Just because it’s familiar doesn’t make it right. Especially with Eren so upset.

Jean’s never seen anything like it. Yeah, he’s seen Eren cry, but only tears of rage. Not this gut-wrenching sadness. It’s an awful sight, the broken, pitiful creature in front of him.

Jean reaches out and instinctively pulls Eren up and into him, locking his arms around Eren’s back.

“Mmmpph,” says Eren, his face smashed up against Jean’s chest. “Get _off_ me!”

Jean immediately drops his arms. But instead of jumping away, Eren stays, his hands clutching Jean’s shirt. He is crying in earnest now, his shoulders heaving.

“I’m so sorry it happened, Eren,” Jean murmurs.

At this, Eren digs into Jean’s shirt with an uncomfortably tight grip, but Jean doesn’t pull away. Instead, one hand comes up to pat Eren’s head, the other to his back. Jean finds himself blurting out what he came here to say.

“Your mom was always so kind to me.”

Eren sobs and sobs. Jean thinks he’s going to keep crying until every last bit of water is squeezed out of him, and he’s left a dry husk. It’s so painful to witness that he wishes he could take the hurt right off of Eren’s shoulders and carry it himself. Since he can’t do that, he keeps one hand slowly, gently rubbing Eren’s back, the other resting on his head. That, at least, he can do.

“She was such a warm, funny person,” he whispers.

A fresh round of sobs, and Jean thinks that probably now is the time for him to shut the fuck up.

At long last, the tears trail off into sniffles and then disappear altogether.

Eren stays put, though, resting against Jean, breathing deeply in and out.

“Shit,” he eventually says, his voice muffled by Jean’s body. He sounds exhausted. Empty. Maybe that’s better than the angry bitterness that was there before, though. Jean hopes so.

“Shit,” Eren says again.

Without really thinking about it, Jean brushes his lips across Eren’s head. He immediately jerks back – what the fuck! Now is not the time to express his stupid unrequited feelings! He really _is_ a complete asshole.

But Eren doesn’t seem to have noticed. Nor does he seem the least bit embarrassed to have cried his guts out into Jean’s shirt. It’s one of the things Jean has always admired about him, that he’s so up front and honest about everything. With Eren, what you see is what you get. Usually, it’s a loudmouthed rant. Today, it's bottomless grief. 

They don’t say anything else as they stand together in the dark room, the pieces of lamp strewn about the floor around them. The silence, however, is easy now, even companionable.

Eren heaves a sigh and steps away. Jean can hear the water running in the bathroom. When Eren returns, his face is scrubbed clean, although his eyes are still red and puffy. He says, in a croaking voice, “Thanks.”

Jean ducks his head. “No problem. Anytime.”

Eren laughs softly. “Good to know. Next time someone dies and I want to cry about it, you’re the person I’ll call.”

“Shut up,” says Jean, but without any heat. Now that Eren is no longer in tears, he's starting to feel awkward. “You want, um, any more company?”

He glances up hopefully, but Eren is staring out the window.

“Nah,” he answers absently. “Thanks, but I’ve gotta pack, get ready to leave.”

Jean nods. Of course Eren doesn’t want to spend one minute more with him than he has to. Eren has always been very clear about his feelings for Jean.

“Let me know if I can help at all. And, uh, sorry about your lamp.”

Eren waves it away. “That thing was hideous. You did us a favor.”

Jean smiles. “Do you want help cleaning it up?”

Eren shakes his head. “No thanks. I can handle it.”

“Okay, I’ll, um, go. I guess.”

Eren doesn't say anything else as Jean makes his way out of the dark house, his shoes crunching on bits of broken glass.

\--------------------------------------------------------

It’s a busy fall semester for Jean, and he throws himself into it. There’s a lot to do, with his classes, the cross-country team, getting all his applications in on time. He’s grateful to be occupied. No time to think about… other things.

However, as soon as he arrives back in town for Thanksgiving break, his mind immediately jumps to Eren. It’s only because Eren’s mother is gone, he tells himself. He can’t imagine it’s going to be a fun Thanksgiving in that grim house, with only gloomy Dr. Jaager for company. Eren must be pretty depressed, being back there.

After he’s home and dumped his stuff, he finds himself heading out to the car. He makes a pit stop at the local florist shop, and then, before he can give himself too much time to think about it, he’s back at the Haunted House.

It’s looking better than it did over the summer. The yard has been weeded, and there are lights on inside.

What if it’s only Dr. Jaeger? What if Eren’s not even home yet? Jean hasn’t thought this through very well. But, he’s already here. He may as well try.

He hops up the stairs, unaccountably nervous, and knocks on the door.

Eren opens it much more quickly this time. Like the house, he looks better-tended. His hair has been trimmed, and it’s clean and shiny. He’s wearing clothes instead of pajamas, and they’re also clean. 

Did Eren’s face _brighten_ at the sight of Jean? No. Not possible. Eren is never _happy_ to see Jean.

“What the hell are you doing here, Kirstein?”

That’s more like it. 

“C’mon, asshole,” Jean answers in kind, twirling his keys.

“What?” asks Eren.

“We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“To visit your mom.”

“ _What?”_

“Come on. I don’t have all day.” Jean does, actually, but Eren doesn’t need to know that.

Eren hesitates, and Jean isn’t sure which way it’s going to go. But then he nods, grabs his coat, and follows Jean down the front steps.

Jean wasn’t sure what kind of flowers to get, but he ended up buying the ones he remembered seeing at Eren’s house. At least, he thinks they’re the same. They have the same smell, anyway, and it reminds him of Mrs. Jaeger, smiling, in the kitchen. 

When Eren breathes in the scent, his body stiffens. Looking over, Jean can see that his eyes are wet.

Jean is suddenly worried. It had seemed like a good idea, before. “I just… I thought… it would be nice to bring flowers. Is that okay?”

Eren looks away from Jean, out the car window.

“Jasmine was her favorite,” he says. They don’t speak for the remainder of the drive.

She has a small headstone, with only her name and the dates engraved on it.

“She’s not really there,” says Eren.

Jean nods. Of course she’s not there. She’s dead.

But that’s not what Eren means.

“Her body was cremated, and her ashes were scattered. That’s only a commemorative stone. But she really loved this place. She used to come here and take walks.”

Jean has an unexpected lump in his throat. “Hmmm,” he says, hoping it’s enough.

He puts the flowers in front of the headstone, and steps away, giving Eren time alone with the memory of his mother.

It _is_ quite peaceful here. He wanders around among the graves until Eren joins him. 

“You done?”

“Yeah.”

They walk out in silence. As before, that time at Eren’s house, it’s an easy silence. Companionable.

“Thanks, Kirstein. I needed that.”

“I know you did.”

Eren shakes his head. “You’re such a smug prick.” But Jean can hear the smile in his voice.

“That’s why you love me, right?” As soon as the words are out, Jean could bite his tongue. What a stupid thing to say. He glances over, but Eren doesn’t seem to have noticed. The words wouldn’t mean anything to him, anyway. Not the way they mean something to Jean.

Jean drops Eren off at his house, and they don’t see each other again for the rest of the holiday.

\----------------------------

It’s Christmas vacation. 

Sasha’s having one of her hedonistic parties, and Jean’s taking a break from flailing on the dance floor. It’s hot, and he’s tired, but in a good way. It’s great to see everyone.

Eren appears in front of him.

“Kirstein.”

“Jaeger.”

They clink bottles.

“I’m gonna go visit my mom tomorrow. Want to come with me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Eren doesn’t say anything right away, but something about his face looks pleased by Jean's response. Jean desperately tries to squash the hope that blooms in his chest at the sight. _It doesn’t mean anything_ , he tells himself.

“Is 11 good?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“See you then.” Eren turns and drifts back into the crowd.

Jean has the jasmine in hand when Eren picks him up.

“She used to have bunches of those in the kitchen all the time,” Eren says, once Jean is in the car. “She loved the smell. Thanks.” He smiles. It’s a sad smile, but not overwhelmingly so.

Once again, at the gravesite, Jean leaves Eren alone.

They’re almost back at the car when Eren grabs Jean’s wrist.

Jean turns, confused, as Eren pulls him in close.

“Thank you,” Eren whispers. Jean shivers at the feeling of Eren's warm breath on his ear.

He steps back and, not looking at Eren, mumbles, “No problem.” He clears his throat and adds, more firmly. “I’m happy to come anytime. I can see why your mom liked it. It’s so peaceful here.”

But Eren hasn’t let go of his wrist. Instead, he pulls Jean back in and plants a kiss on his neck.

Jean goes rigid. “Eren. What the fuck?”

Without answering, Eren steps up and kisses Jean’s cheek. 

“Stop!” Jean barely rasps out.

“Why?” whispers Eren.

“You can't…. do that.” Even Jean can hear how weak his voice sounds.

“Why not?” asks Eren, as he kisses Jean’s cheek again, this time much closer to his mouth.

“Because,” Jean says angrily, pushing Eren away. _Because you don’t mean it. Because you’re just feeling sad and want to latch on to someone. Because you don’t like me. You never have._

Eren steps back and drops Jean’s wrist.

“Way to ruin the moment.”

“Moment? What moment? There was no moment.”

“The moment when I was confessing my feelings.”

“I didn’t hear any confession,” Jean retorts.

“I was confessing with gestures,” says Eren.

"You were _miming_ your confession?”

“No, I wasn’t _miming_ my confession. I was expressing myself through romantic kisses.”

“No, you weren't expressing yourself through romantic kisses. You were being sentimental because we’re in the cemetery where your mother’s commemorative headstone resides, and you were feeling emotional about her death.”

“No I wasn’t, you dipshit. I mean, yes, I am feeling emotional about her death, but that's not what that was about.”

“Yes it was,” says Jean stubbornly.

“Do you want to have a knockdown, drag-out fight right here, in the cemetery where my mother’s commemorative headstone resides?” growls Eren.

“No,” says Jean angrily. “So stop being such a moron!”

“Then shut up and listen to me!” Eren yells. He takes a deep breath and adds, almost under his breath. “Believe me, I’d much rather not be having this conversation.”

“ _You’re_ the one who _started_ it!”

“Yeah,” says Eren, sounding irritated. “And if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t.” 

Eren must be able to see the confusion on Jean’s face, because he adds, angrily, “What I mean is, if I could stop myself from being in love with such an obnoxious horseface, I would.”

Jean can only blink.

“There are so many reasons to _not_ be in love with you, it’s astounding that I am.”

Eren holds up a hand.

“You’re a pretentious, arrogant prick.” Up goes his index finger.

“You think you’re a lot funnier than you are.” The middle finger.

“You’re stubborn as hell.” His ring finger.

“And you’re too smart for your own good.” His pinky. He waggles all four fingers in the air. “There. Four excellent reasons.”

“This is…. This is supposed to win me over?” Jean splutters out.

Eren ignores him.

“And …”

Jean glowers, bracing himself for the next insult.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” Eren’s hand rises further, and he brushes a rough knuckle against Jean’s cheek. “No matter what I do.”

Jean must have disbelief written all over his face, because Eren lets out an irritated huff.

“I’m ridiculously in love with you, you stupid fucker. Have been for years.”

"But - but you're always such a dick!"

"Ah." Eren flushes a deep red. "Yes. Sorry about that."

“Y-y-you-“ Jean stutters, unable to form a coherent reply. “You idiot!” Embarrassingly, it’s the best he can come up with in the midst of these startling revelations.

Eren grins. “It takes one to know one.”

But this time when he tugs Jean in, Jean doesn’t resist. He doesn’t resist when Eren gently cups his face. He doesn't resist when Eren steps up on his toes and kisses him on the mouth. He doesn't resist when Eren's fingers tangle in his hair. He doesn't resist when Eren falls back onto his heels, drawing both their faces down. He doesn't resist when Eren coaxes his mouth open into a full-bodied kiss. He doesn't resist when Eren slides his hands down, pulling Jean in closer.

How can he? After all, he’s been ridiculously in love with this stupid fucker for years.


End file.
